Amongst the Golden Light
by My Petal Heart
Summary: It's been years since the great battle and relations are strained as prejudice and ignorance prevails. Can three kingdoms come together to fight against a greater foe set to destroy them or will it take the love of two unlikely people to conquer the darkness and save them all?
1. For Love of Kingdom

**It's been years since the great battle and relations are strained as prejudice and ignorance prevails. Can three kingdoms come together to fight against a greater foe set to destroy them or will it take the love of two unlikely people to conquer the darkness and save them all?**

 **Welcome. I do hope you enjoy this story and please, leave me your comments. A writer can only get better when others provide feedback.**

 **All credit for the wonderful world of Middle Earth belongs to Tolkien and all the characters envisioned in this story is the work of Peter Jackson and the fantastic actors who portrayed them.**

 **Prologue**

"Hold steady lads," bellowed the commander from his perch upon his steely ram. With a mighty throw, he let loose the heavy metal spear sending it high into the smoke-filled sky where it landed only inches away from the orc leader's foot. "May Mahal own you all," he cried evoking the same from the army of dwarves who stood behind him.

Commander Dwalin spurred his ram down the front line until he found his second in command waiting eagerly with the crown prince at his side.

"Kíli, are the archers prepared?"

"Aye, that they are Commander Dwalin."

"Fíli, is the other brigade ready to the north?"

"Yes, at your command."

"Then what are we waiting for lads?" he quips with a smirk before turning to face his legion.

With his ax raised high above his head, he let out a hoarse battle cry, "Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!" prompting the entire battalion to race across the barren lands of Erebor and towards an uncertain fate.

 **Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!** \- The axes of the dwarves! The dwarves are upon you!

 **Chapter One – For Love of Kingdom**

It's been three years since the retaking of the lonely mountain and the battle of the five armies which saw to King Thorin sitting smugly upon his throne of bowenite and gold, confident his rightful home was now in order and the last of the reconstruction completed. But as his kingdom flourished from the depths of destruction and despair, his mind remained troubled. After Azog the Defiler was defeated and killed by his own hand, a new charge took his place, one who was stronger, more cunning and who hated the Dwarves of Erebor even more. And even though their numbers grew stronger every day from the arrival of kin far and wide, the constant raids by Gundabad orcs and goblin mercenaries had finally taken its toll. It wasn't safe for dwarf or man in the region and it was time to reach out to the newly crowned King of Dale.

"Send word to the _King_ of Dale that I request a meeting. Tell him - that I cordially invite him to Erebor," he said indifferently before flicking his hand in dismissal.

"Yes my liege," said the keeper of the seal before turning on his boot heels and leaving the grand throne room.

King Thorin and the bargeman never saw eye to eye, not since the great battle when Bard tried to force his hand and make him concede. In Thorin's mind, he knew he was wrong and that the sickness impaired his judgment but he never forgave Bard for taking the Arkenstone as payment or for siding with that wretched Elvish King. When news came that the bargeman was to become a king himself, he scoffed at the thought and vowed he'd never step foot in Dale again - or let any man of Dale enter his mountain.

But that was then, and after much council he finally agreed to put aside his distrust and come up with a plan; a plan that would benefit both kingdoms.

 **-D-**

"Da! A raven from Erebor just arrived. It's a letter bearing the gold seal of the king," cried Bain as he raced through the bustling kitchen towards his father's study.

Much of Dale had been rebuilt, thanks to a certain jewel and the wealth of a Gondor steward. The final undertaking was the rebuilding of the royal palace and King Bard was busy fussing over the master drawings and plans.

"What's that Bain?" he muttered in concentration while flipping through the chaotic mess on his desk.

"Da!" he pants, "Here!"

Bain handed over the folded parchment, the distinct raven emblem of Erebor embossed within the sealing wax. The king looked at it with suspicion before taking it from the boy's hand. Usually any correspondence from Erebor came from one of their officials but never Thorin, never him.

"What does that royal arse want?" he sneered before tearing open the seal and unfolding the page. Reading in silence, the king's rugged face quickly changed from irritation to one of concern.

"What is it Da?"

"It appears I've been summoned."

 **-D-**

The soft sound of a young girl's giggle filled the sunlit chamber, the balcony doors swept open to bring in the early summer breeze and the warm yeasty smell of bread from the market stalls below.

"Tilda - quit fooling around and help me with the bedding," Sigrid gently scolded.

"But Siggy, you know I can't fold the corners like you do, besides, you know my bed won't stay that way," she replied with a mischievous grin.

Sigrid rolled her eyes in amusement as she shook out the crumpled bed sheet.

"That's very true, but at least we can try to have your room look somewhat decent for at least a few hours. Come on, these morning chores won't get done on their own."

"Fine," she huffed. "You know - all these chores are interfering with my childhood."

"Don't be such a drama queen."

"I'm not a queen, I'm a princess!" she cried, flinging herself at her sister in a big bear hug.

"Is that right little bird? Well, your highness, I have a lot to do today so you best get off to the kitchen where Gilda can fix you some breakfast."

"Aw, but I want to be with you today," she pouted crossing her arms defiantly.

"I would love to Tilly, really I would but we've talked about this," kneeling down to the girl's height as she tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. "I have a lot of responsibilities now, more so than ever and I can't trust these servants to do them all for me."

"Okay. Just promise that you'll play quoits with me after supper."

"I promise little one."

Sigrid placed a sweet kiss on Tilda's forehead and sent her through the door, forever grateful that she still had a younger sister to look after.

She turned back to the task at hand, humming softly to herself as she fluffed the duck down pillows and smoothed out the patchwork quilt. As Sigrid busied herself in the small sandstone chamber, she noticed a pile of clothes thrown into a corner behind an old rocking chair hewed from trees of a bygone era. _That girl,_ she thought with a laugh. Grabbing a willow basket from a nearby stool, she started to toss the soiled clothes in when she jumped back, startled at what laid before her. She had uncovered a small doll, partially burnt and discolored from age. The details of fine workmanship faded from its torn cloth dress and chipped wooden buttons. Sigrid bent down picking it up slowly, holding it carefully in her hands in fear that it would fall apart in a poof of ash. Tilda had found it amongst the ruins of their new home when they first arrived in Dale. She refused to throw it out saying that the spirit of the little girl who used to live there would be sad. Sigrid didn't have the heart to take it away from her, but it was a painful reminder of that day, the day that changed their lives forever and the moment her resentment for all things dwarven began.

 **-D-**

"There you are Sigrid," said Bain as he entered the old and musty cold cellar. "I've been looking all over for you."

"I've been here all morning sorting out this mess," she snit sweeping away the loose golden brown curls from her eyes. "Who mixes the jam jars with the pickled preserves or shoves the potatoes and onions into one sack? Really Bain, those scullery maids have to go."

"That's not important right now. Da has been summoned to Erebor."

"What? Since when? The dwarves haven't bothered with us since the retaking of that bloody mountain."

"Well they want something now."

"Is that so," she mocked untying her apron at the neck and tossing it to the floor.

The Princess took off in a flurry, her dark blue skirt billowing behind her as Bain tried in vain to keep up. She was determined to speak with her father and let him know what she truly thought of this obscene demand.

"Sigrid, wait!" yelled Bain as he ran after her through the narrow hallway.

"How dare he summon Da like he's some page boy after all the times he tried to mend the fences to only have that _sullen_ overlord cast us off," she spat over her shoulder.

The servants had seen that look on their lady mistress before and quickly got out of her way as she charged through the old palace ruins. Spotting the guard before the door to her father's council room, Sigrid snapped her wrist to the side motioning him to get out of her way as she pushed the heavy wooden doors open.

"Percy, we need to position more outposts between Dale and Lake Town. These attacks are starting to interrupt our…," spoke the king before a flash of bronze locks caught his attention.

Sigrid strutted to the middle of the council room taking command of all present.

"Father, is it true?" she declared. "Has that selfish mountain king summoned you after all these years?"

"Sigrid, can't you see I'm in the middle of a meeting with my advisors," intoned the new king as he gestured to the occupants around the square table.

"Well, is it?" she stomped ignoring his words.

King Bard knew he couldn't placate his daughter unless he gave her his full attention. With a defeated look and a visible sigh, he rose from his stately seat. "Yes, it is true but not in that context. I've been _cordially_ invited to meet before King Thorin to discuss matters pertaining to the increased threat of orcs in the region."

"Are you going to go?"

"I would think that wise, wouldn't you?"

Sigrid grew increasingly flustered, "I wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Every time you tried to hold an audience with him to discuss an alliance, all he did was look down upon you from his pile of gold. I say we do the same."

"To what end my dear daughter," said Bard as he walked around the table to meet her. "We can continue to play this game or we could be the better and submit to his request. It's obvious that the orc situation is bothering him too, so maybe now our _majestic_ king is ready to work with us."

"I don't believe that Da. Everything that's happened to us, to our people was because of him and his selfish ways. He caused our sorrow, our pain, our loss and for what! So he can sit there inside that mountain counting his coin. He gave us nothing! He went back on his word after all we did for him and his friends. You had to take the Arkenstone so we had something to start…."

"Sigrid! I didn't steal that gem. It was given to me by Bilbo, the Hobbit, as his share of the treasure for helping to reclaim the mountain - to which we'll forever be grateful."

Bard walked up to his daughter with a soft smile and placed a loving hand upon her rosy cheek. "My sweet daughter, I know how much you dislike the dwarves, in fact, I think you downright hate them, but if you want to be a future Queen of Dale, you'll need to learn how to work with them."

Sigrid shook her head forcing her father to withdraw his hand. "I will never work with them - ever. He may want something from us now but mark my words Father; he will never reciprocate in kind."

"That may be, but before we throw stones shouldn't we risk it and see what he wants first?"

The council advisors sitting around the table all bobbed their heads in mutual agreement.

"I agree with your Father, Princess Sigrid," spoke an elderly man with snow white hair and steely blue eyes. "It's time we put the past into the past. King Thorin wouldn't call a meeting if it wasn't important to him - or to us."

"As you can see Sigrid, even the keeper of the coin is in agreement," Bard said with a light grin. "Please, let us continue with our meeting. I'm pretty confident that there's something that needs your utmost attention within the household."

Sigrid stood there, her arms at her side, her fists clenched into tiny balls. Grudgingly, she accepted her father's unconcerned dismissal by turning around in a huff and striding out of the room in a wounded wave of disappointment.

Before the guard closed the doors behind her she heard her father laugh and say "Now where were we…," fueling her already festering temper. _How can he completely ignore what those awful dwarves did to us, to our people!_

Bain was waiting in the hallway when Sigrid trotted past. "Hey, so what happened in there?" he said when he finally caught up to her.

"Nothing," she snapped. "Father is going to Erebor. What he doesn't know - is that I'm going with him.

 **Da - father**


	2. An Unexpected Friendship

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews so far, I appreciate each and every one of them.**

 **All credit goes to Tolkien and Peter Jackson.**

 **An Unexpected Friendship**

Sigrid eyed the sky nervously, the clouds that had been wispy and white that morning were now dark and ragged. She quickened the pace of her favorite mare, pleading with the gods to hold off the rain as the wind played with the leather straps on her saddlebags. She instinctively tightened her summer cloak around herself, lifting the over-sized hood to cover the single braid she wore down her back. The journey from Dale to Erebor usually took an hour, at the most, but her father and the six city guards were in no rush and kept a slow and steady pace. As they crossed the sterile, dragon torched land, King Bard was ever watchful to the horizon, searching for signs of trouble that would make him regret his decision to allow his daughter to accompany him. Sigrid was head strong and brave to a fault but innocent to the evils of this world. She wouldn't take no for an answer when she confronted him two days earlier as they prepared for this first official visit.

" _But Da, I must go with you! I am your heir and I belong at your side," she said with conviction._

" _Dwarves don't recognize women the way we do Sigrid. Women can't hold a position of power in their world. Your word would mean nothing to them."_

" _That's absurd. Surely they have dwarf women who contribute their thoughts and reasoning when called upon. I mean, doesn't the dwarf king have a sister …"_

" _Sigrid, it's not as simple as that. Dwarves are paternal. It's extremely rare for them to mention their mothers, wives or any female for that matter. They hide them away, kept them secret in their halls of stone like treasure."_

" _I don't care. I'm going with you. One day, I'll be the Queen of Dale and whether he likes it or not, he will hear what I have to say."_

As they approached the city of stone, the lonely mountain loomed over them, its sharp pinnacle poking through the bank of threatening clouds. King Bard raised his gloved hand stopping the guards and Sigrid before a bridge that crossed over the shimmerless waters of the Celduin. It was then, when shouts in khuzdul alerted their attention towards a massive forbidding gate of black iron as it began to open outwards, its grating sound echoing off the steadfast walls. It was loud and presageful sending a foreboding chill down Sigrid's back. She'd never been this close to Erebor before and over the past three years it was clear they did some redesigning to fortify their situation from further assault. High above, the battlements were lined with guards of gold as flags embossed with a black raven flapped wildly in the late afternoon wind. When the harsh sounds of the gate finally stopped, out of the black depths of the mountain strolled a solitary dwarf dressed in Durin blue, his long white beard split in two. With his head held high, the dwarf crossed over the newly built bridge of stone before stopping in front of the king.

"Greetings King Bard of Dale," he said with a low bow. "Balin at your service."

"Greetings Balin, Chief Minister and Advisor of Erebor."

"I hope your journey from Dale was a pleasant one. Please, follow me and we can tend to your horses and personal effects."

They followed the elder dwarf through the mouth of the mountain and into an enormous entrance hall flickering with golden light from braziers and torches that lined the granite walls. It was dank and musty and a cool air surround them when the gate finally closed once more; sealing their only way out. Sigrid looked to her guards for reassurance but only saw uneasiness and worried faces. This didn't improve her mood at all.

Balin motioned them towards an antechamber to the left of the gate which led to the stables and a rookery filled with croaking ravens. The strong acidic smell of animal scent was strong and sharp forcing Sigrid to wrinkle her nose with a disapproving jerk.

"Really," she whispered over to Fredrik, the captain of the city guards. "You'd think they'd keep the animals outside. No wonder they all smell so foul." Fredrik smirked and nodded his head in agreement before dismounting and taking the lead of Sigrid's mare.

"Please tether your horses here. The stable hands will tend to them shortly," said Balin with regard. "As for your personal effects, these porters will take them to your chambers and escort Princess Sigrid to hers." Over by the stable doors stood two fidgeting dwarflings standing ready. "King Bard, will you kindly follow me, _my_ kng is anxious to greet you."

"Well that seems quite rude," Sigrid huffed as Fredrik helped her off her speckled horse. "Does the mighty king under the mountain not wish to greet me as well?"

Balin cocked a bushy eyebrow before giving the young woman a reserved look.

"I beg your forgiveness Princess Sigrid, but greetings of this nature are restricted to the ruling class. Ladies are formally met during the evening feast and celebration." With a sagely nod, the royal advisor promptly turned and headed back towards the entrance hall ending the discussion.

Bard approached his red cheeked daughter pulling her aside while the guards gathered their things. "Sigrid, what are you doing," he said in a hushed tone. "I warned you to watch that tongue of yours."

"But Da…"

"No buts! I agreed to have you come simply to appease you my sweet. I told you that the race of dwarves have their own customs and beliefs. Do as he says and follow the porters to your chamber. I'll be there as soon as I can." Bard gave her a small kiss on the forehead before turning swiftly, his dark cloak fanning out around him as he marched after Balin, his city guards close behind. Only Fredrik remained to linger for but a moment before giving the princess a comforting look upon his leave.

As the horses were lead away by the stable hands, Sigrid stood there seething with annoyance as she stared at the two nervous dwarflings.

"If the princess would f f follow us, we'll take you to your chamber now," mumbled a red headed dwarf with a single braid on each side of his beardless face. He looked the same age as Bain, but deep down she knew that wasn't true.

As they walked through the maze of fire lit halls and down to the heart of the mountain, Sigrid grew increasingly aware that her presence was causing quite a stir. The low thrumming noise from dwarven onlookers had become unsettling and it started to make her uncomfortable.

"Excuse me, young dwarf person – yes you," she pointed to the red headed one. "Why are all these people staring at me? I'm not some freak from a vagabond show you know."

"I'm s s sorry m'lady," he finally mustered to say. "It's not their intent to make you feel unwelcomed. It's just, well… it's just they've never seen a princess of men before and you're quite…well, you're quite _unusual_ for one."

Sigrid reared back, offended. "I'm unusual?" she huffed. "Well I never!"

The other porter suddenly stepped in front of Sigrid stopping her from storming off to Mahal knows where. His large blue eyes pleading her to listen as he twisted his fingers around the hem of his brown tunic.

"No m'lady, you're not unusual, in fact you're prettier than most. Please, please forgive Jofem, he confuses his Westron words all the time." Sending his young friend a roll of his eyes in affirmation.

The young dwarfling before her was smaller than the other, with golden blonde shaggy locks and several small braids on each side of his peach fuzz chin. Sigrid couldn't help but soften her demeanor and smiled at the young lad as he leaned in towards her, yearning for a response.

"So if his name is Jofem, what's your name then?" she asked.

A huge smile flashed across the dwarfling's face. "My name is Finn, son of Holinn m'lady, and you know, um, since now you know what our names are I hope we can be friends and maybe one day we can visit you in Dale, and I hear that they have the best honey cakes in the market there, but my Amad never lets me go to the market and, um, maybe we can show you around Erebor while you're here, perhaps to the training arenas, just Jofem and I. How long are you here again?" he finally ended with a pause releasing what was left of the air in this chest.

"Well Finn, I'm not really sure," Sigrid answered in a mute tone. "I appreciate the introductions but I think it would be best if we kept things the way they are right now. I doubt my father and I will be here that long."

Finn's young face deflated.

Sigrid's coolness made the young dwarflings retreat back to their positions of leading the young mistress to her chamber, their eyes ever peripheral on her whereabouts. They've never seen the likes of a girl like this before and her bizarre and somewhat rude behavior made the trek even more awkward.

After walking in silence for quite some time, the young porters finally stopped before a grand staircase where pale steps of stone rose out of themselves, each one more smooth and perfect than the last. They had reached the inner royal palace and the sight of it took Sigrid's breath away. Instead of the dark greenish grey stone of the mountain, the royal residences were light in color, like that of a dappled mare. It stood brilliantly before her in the dim firelight, like a mirage, distant and displaced, yet magical and real.

She was directed to ascend and as she rose step by step, she didn't dare look over the side as one careless step would send you down to an early grave below. Once they reached the top landing and inside the main archway, the porters continued on until they came to a secluded hall where a large singular door stood at its end. Sigrid noticed that the door was old, very old, and made of wood from an ancient and long forgotten forest. Upon it laid flowers and vines of silver that crawled up and around a tiny window of stained glass at its center.

Young Finn gripped down on the stiff iron handle, clenching his teeth and using all his might to open the heavy door with a grunt. It groaned as if sealed for centuries making Sigrid apprehensive on what to expect inside. The dwarflings bowed, extending their hands out in gesture for the princess to enter, but she hesitated. It wasn't until Jofem looked up at her with his mahogany eyes that the princess caught his worried face. She composed herself, lifting her chin and pushing her shoulders back before sweeping on in expecting the worst. But those worries were laid to rest when a sudden and surprised gasp escaped her lips. Before her was a grand and welcoming sitting room. On the back outer wall was a stone fireplace lit and crackling bright; a set of plush sitting chairs angled just so beside it. On the other side of the room stood a rectangular trestle table with two wooden benches and a blue linen runner embroidered with delicate flowers along its edge. As Sigrid's eyes took in the room's fineries, she noticed a wooden letter desk tucked inside a small adjoining study; quills, ink and a stack of parchment paper laid out neatly on top.

"This is the Queen's room m'lady. Here is the sitting room and through here is your bedchamber…"

"Is that a window?" she cried interrupting Jofem when she noticed the early evening moonlight filtering through the panes and onto the study floor.

Confusion washed over the dwarflings as they looked from one another. "Yes it is, and over here is a small balcony," replied Finn with a sheepish grin.

"A balcony!" she exclaimed scampering over to the double doors.

Sigrid flung them open, relishing the fresh mountain air that rushed in before taking in the amazing view of the valley below and the Kingdom of Dale in the distance.

"I would never have believed it. I thought I was going to be holed up inside this bloody mountain stifling for fresh air during this entire visit," she snide before turning to see the dwarflings avert her gaze. Remorse suddenly filled her upon remembering her father's stern words.

"I'm so sorry, please accept my apology. I didn't mean to sound so rude. It was just an unexpected surprise."

"No need to apologize m'lady, we're happy you like your chamber," replied Finn. "We'll leave your belongings over here," carefully placing her saddlebags upon the table. Before she could say anything further, the porters were out the door closing it behind them with a thump.

The idea of a balcony and a window inside this mammoth of a mountain dumbfounded her. Perhaps all those rumors and gossip talk about the dwarves wasn't all true.

Slowly Sigrid made her way towards the bedchamber. She held her breath in awe when the vastness of the room came into full view. There by the far wall stood a large four poster bed made of walnut wood, dark and smooth covered in carved patterns of flowers and vines. Right beside it was another fireplace, lit and glowing warm. Several chests and clothes closets lined the walls and instead of tapestries, the room was hand painted with murals of summer fields and snow top mountain ranges.

"By the spirits this is beautiful," she whispered to herself.

She trailed her hand across the silky linen and fur lined comforter at the toe of the bed before noticing a simple yet beautifully built dressing table in the far corner, the oval mirror reflecting back her wonderment. Laid upon it was a silver jeweled hairbrush and hand mirror, several jars of flowery scents and a small wooden box with a blue sash around it. A square note tied on top.

 ** _Welcome to Erebor_**

That was all it said.

Sigrid slowly untied the blue sash before opening the box with a creak. Inside laid a hair comb made of pure silver. The diamonds, pearls and gems of light blue flowed into a familiar flowery design. It was the emblem of Dale – the flower of the mountain - the ever fragrant Wildrose. It was exquisite. As Sigrid reached for the comb, she noticed another note underneath it.

 ** _Wear this tonight_**

 ** _-D-_**

"It looks as if you've found some comfort Sigrid. You should see where they've put me. I swear, it's the last room they decided to fix up," Bard said sarcastically upon entering his daughter's chamber. Sigrid gave him a soft laugh.

"How was your meeting with the _king_?" she asked, rising from the sitting chair by the fire, placing her leather bound book upon its seat.

"It went as well as I thought it would, but time will tell."

"Did he say what he wanted?"

"Not really. There will be an official council meeting tomorrow morning, but enough about that, how are you doing my darling?" glancing over to his daughter with a questionable look.

"I guess I'm a bit overwhelmed. I never thought the mountain would be quite like this," gesturing to the opulence of the room.

"I agree. They say there's so much treasure here it would take ten lifetimes to count it all – and I believe it," he quipped before becoming more serious. "Sigrid, are you going to be all right while I tend to these meetings?"

"I guess so Da but it really annoys me that I'm so easily dismissed, like I'm some nameless face with no mind of my own. Don't they realize I'll be a queen one day?"

Bard pinched his nose before answering. "Darling, we really have no idea what dwarves think or what they do when holed up inside their mountains. Dwarf culture has been a mystery since the awakening of their forefathers. They don't even speak their own language in front of outsiders."

"I know, they're a secretive and complex people Da – I get it," rolling her eyes to emphasize her point.

Bard smirked. His daughter was so cheeky and opinionated. Valar help the poor bugger that marries her.

"So you'll be okay here then? I don't anticipate staying in Erebor for more than a few days."

"I have my books to keep me company," she answered sitting back down on her chair and placing the volume on the side table beside her.

"And what is this you're reading?" picking the book back up and flipping through its pages.

"It's a prose I found in the ruins of the old library in Dale. It's the telling of Durin's Folk."

Bard gave his smug daughter an incredulous look. "And what made you decide to read such a thing?"

"You. You said one day when I'm queen, I would need to learn how to work with the dwarves and bridge our two cultures for the sake of our kingdoms. I'm trying Da; I'm trying to understand but it's hard for me."

Bard placed the book back upon the table and took the seat across from her. "I know my sweet girl. There are times when I too curse the day I came across Thorin Oakenshield and his company. We lost so much and for what?" he scoffed.

Sigrid was about to answer when a loud rapping knock came from the door. She looked to her father in surprise before he got up, his hand upon the hilt of his sword.

"Who calls upon my daughter," he hailed.

"It is I, Lady Dis. I come to offer my assistance."

Sigrid was baffled. Why would King Thorin's sister need to help her? Shooting up from her seat, she frantically gestured her father to open the door. As it swung wide, there before them was a small, lithe dwarrowdam, her hair dark like a raven's wing except for a few grey strands by her temple. All of it was pulled up loose into twists and braids and held in place by a single jeweled clasp. Her delicate face was pale and her eyes smoky and blue like the morning sky. She really was quite a beauty. Her appearance surprised Sigrid, for in her mind's eye, she always envisioned the dwarf king's sister to be plump with facial hair and she was neither of those things.

Composed, Lady Dis strolled on in; her burgundy day gown swooshing across the cool stone floor. Narrowing her eyes, she took a quick inventory of the room before giving King Bard a graceful nod.

"Welcome King Bard and Princess Sigrid to the Kingdom of Erebor. Please forgive me for not greeting you at the gate upon your arrival but an urgent matter detained me," she said firmly.

"No reason is needed Princess Dis," King Bard answered. "As you can see our needs have been taken care of with much attention."

"Please, call me Lady Dis – princesses are reserved for the young and unmarried and I'm neither."

"Come, sit by the fire," gestured Sigrid.

"Thank you, but no child. I won't be staying long. In a few moments, two of my handmaidens will arrive to get you ready for the celebration this night in honor of our collaboration."

"But I'm already dressed for tonight's festivities," she countered. The dwarrowdam scrutinized her from the corner of her eye making Sigrid self conscious as she smoothed down her brown cotton skirt.

"Indeed. Though your _outfit_ is adequate my girl, we have taken the liberty of filling your chests and closets with the latest in dwarven fashion, some as far away as the Red Mountains."

"How would you know my sizing? I don't believe we've ever met before now."

"I have an eye for this sort of thing. Fret naught my dear, you'll be enchanting once we're done with you."

Bard gave a shallow cough. "I beg your pardon," prompting the ladies to turn and look at him, "but I should take my leave. It's obvious that I'm no longer needed here. I'll be back later to escort you to the feast Sigrid."

"That won't be necessary. One of my sons will escort your daughter to the hall of feasting, as is tradition."

Lady Dis stepped a little closer to Bard looking up into his light brown eyes. "Since you're without a queen, you're to escort me in their stead. I hope this is acceptable to you?"

"I, um…I – would be honored my lady," completely throwing the king off guard.

"Good, it's settled then," she replied giving the king a quick slap on his shoulder then gently pushing him through the chamber door. "Oh, and by the way" she called after him. "There's some sweet water in your chamber. Sprinkle some on. I don't want my date smelling of dung and horse sweat tonight." With a quick wink, Lady Dis slammed the door shut leaving Bard utterly speechless in the hallway.

The stately matriarch turned back to Sigrid with a soft sly smile upon her lips. "He's quite handsome your father. Not much of a scruff on his face but beards can be so overrated."

Sigrid was flabbergasted and unable to form any words as she tried to comprehend what just happened.

Dis returned a hearty laugh. "Well then my dear, since I've chased your voice away shall we head for the royal bath?" All Sigrid could do was nod her head in agreement and take the elder woman's hand.

She commanded Sigrid to remove her dress and corset, showing great emphasis on her distaste for Dale high fashion. Just as Sigrid came around the dressing screen in her flimsy white cotton shift, two stout dwarrowdams entered the room with drying towels and jars and little sachets containing Valar knows what and setting them down upon a slab of stone jetting out from the interior wall. The room was warm and steamy and the large circular bath sunk deep into the floor.

"It's about time you two showed up. If you were any longer I feared I'd have to scrub this poor wretch myself."

"We're sorry m'lady," the handmaidens cried in unison.

"Tsk," waving a dismissive hand their way, "no sense getting all bothered."

Lady Dis returned her focus to Sigrid who was standing there like a lost little lamb as the handmaidens bustled about the room.

"Well then young Sigrid," snapping the girl back to the present. "I will leave you in Mertha and Dindora's capable hands but remember, my son will be here shortly so do hurry."

As the older handmaiden swept by with arms full of fluffy towels, Lady Dis grabbed her sleeve, pulling her close. "Dindora, make sure she sparkles like the finest of gems," she said low into her ear. "There's someone who is quite anxious to see her again."

"Yes m'lady. We will do our best with what we've got," she replied dryly.

With a smug and satisfied smile upon her face, Lady Dis turned; her long skirt pooling out around her as she sauntered through the door, closing it behind her.

"Is she always like that?" Sigrid asked who she thought was Mertha.

"Like what m'lady?"

"Direct, commanding, kind of in your face."

Trying hard to stifle a giggle, Mertha tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear before catching Dindora's hard glare. She immediately cast her dark brown eyes downward before speaking again.

"It's not my place to say m'lady. It wouldn't be right."

"You don't have to answer," replied Sigrid removing her shift and stepping carefully into the warm fragrant bath. "I think I'm going to like Lady Dis."

 **Amad - mother**

 **Da - father**

 **Lady Dis. She's a force to be reckoned with and all seven kingdoms were well aware of her tenacious views, her stubbornness and her fierce love for her sons and brother. She never cared much for rules or traditions and typically got her way with little to no resistance from anyone including the king. To come up against Lady Dis was a war that few ever won.**


	3. Secret Misunderstandings

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who has sent me messages or made comments, they mean a lot to me. I hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

 **Secret Misunderstandings**

The handmaidens dashed about preparing for when their young charge would leave the comforts of her warm bath. If they were to get her ready in time, they'd need to do it soon.

"M'lady, we must get you dressed," Mertha beckoned.

"Oh my," replied Sigrid jolting upright. "It's gotten so late and I haven't even washed my hair yet."

"No time for that now, we'll just brush it well and sprinkle it with scent."

Sigrid rose and stepped into the warm towels that Mertha wrapped around her before she was hustled into the bedchamber. The maidens dried her off quickly and slipped a silky sleeveless shift over her head before bringing her before a lineup of gowns upon her bed.

"M'lady, if I may, I would like to suggest a gown for you," Dindora said decisively.

"Please, by all means," Sigrid returned. "I wouldn't know where to start."

The princess had never seen garments like these before and was struck by the beauty and fine workmanship. Each gown was embroidered with gold or silver thread and embellished with gems and pearls. These were gowns truly fit for a queen and Sigrid was unsure if she was worthy enough to wear them.

"I believe the cream and blue embroider would serve you best tonight m'lady. It's a simple gown but the colors would complement your fair skin and the grey of your eyes."

Sigrid had to agree. She would feel more herself if she wore a dress that wasn't so extravagant. Mertha and Dindora quickly laced her into the gown and then busied themselves with fixing her hair at the dressing table. They kept it simple with no braids but with twists and soft curls, all lightly brought up into a loose roll at her nape. Mertha had pulled out an assortment of jewelry and hair combs from a nearby chest and was pondering over which one would do as she held them up beside Sigrid's face.

"I think the moonstone comb and opal necklace would do nicely Dindora. What do you think?"

The elder's timeworn face screwed up into a disapproving look. "Absolutely not - It doesn't suit her at all Mertha," waving them away.

Flustered, Mertha picked up a diamond necklace with matching ring only to receive another nix shake.

"Fine, I give up," she pouted, placing the jewels back into the chest.

"Now now there, take it easy," chide Dindora who was shaking a light rose scent into the young mistress' hair. "Let me take a look. I have more experience with these sorts of things."

The younger dwarrowdam took a step back to allow the other to rummage through the chest. Within in a few moments she pulled out a pair of teardrop pearl earrings.

"There. I think we should keep it simple with the accessories too," as she held them up to Sigrid's ears. "You're young and quite pretty for a woman of men. I would suggest leaving everywhere else bare so others can enjoy your youthful glow."

That brought a rosy tinge to Sigrid's cheeks. She was starting to enjoy her time with these dwarrowdams, especially when they bantered amongst each other.

"She'll need a hair comb Dindora," Mertha fussed. "Her hair is so fine these curls will fall out and ruin the entire look!"

"Seriously child, sometimes I wonder if you have a pea for a brain. Of course she'll need a hair comb."

Dindora began rummaging through the jewelry chest once more before Sigrid's eyes popped wide.

"Wait! I believe I'm supposed to wear this tonight," pulling the wooden box with the blue sash towards her and opening it up. Both dwarrowdams gazed in with wonder.

"My word, that is beautiful and its dwarven made too, just look at the craftsmanship. Very fine gift this is young mistress," said Dindora picking the comb up and carefully placing it into her hair.

"Did Lady Dis give that to you?"

"Shame on you Mertha," Dindora barked. "It's not your place to be asking private questions like that. Please forgive her; she's still learning how to be a handmaiden."

"I'm not offended. To be honest, I have no idea who gave this to me. The box was here when I arrived with a note saying to wear this tonight."

Dindora remained quiet while she finished up with Sigrid's hair. She grabbed the silver hand mirror and showed the back of the princess' head from all angles. The comb was the centerpiece and it was beautifully placed within her bronze curls.

"Well, if I may be so bold m'lady, it would seem that you have a secret admirer."

Sigrid turned to face Dindora with a perplexed look. "Secret admirer, that's absurd. It's probably just a welcoming gift, that's all."

Mertha pulled a face, her eyes wide with a knowing look. Something was up and Sigrid knew it. "What are you two not telling me? Please, I'd like to know."

Dindora let out a quick sigh. "Of course m'lady," sending Mertha back a scalding glare. "You see, when a dwarrow likes a dwarrowdam, he will make her a gift. Usually it's a piece of jewelry or some type of wooden figure or perhaps he will write her a song. Nevertheless, it's his way of saying that he's interested."

"That seems strange. If his identity is a secret, how will one know who it is that is interested?

"Eventually the admirer will come forth. You will know it when it happens."

"Ha! You're saying a d _warf_ is interested in me," she replied in a condescending laugh. "You can't be serious. If you're sure this is what this gift means, then I don't wish to wear it."

The dwarrowdams immediately withdrew themselves casting their eyes to the floor. "We beg your pardon m'lady," Mertha said meekly.

"No, no that's fine. Please remove this comb and replace it with another. I do not wish to send a message of hope when there is none."

"As you wish."

Sigrid was finally ready and not a moment too soon. There was a loud knock at the door and Mertha scurried from the bedchamber to answer it. Dindora was still fussing over Sigrid's curls as she rose from her seat.

"I'm sorry if I was discourteous earlier. Please understand that it's been difficult for me to be here, amongst all of you."

The elder handmaiden stopped what she was doing and faced the girl.

"No need to apologize. I completely understand. It would indeed be absurd and unacceptable for any dwarf to show affection for a woman from Dale. That is not our custom and would be looked upon unfavorably."

Sigrid knew she hit a nerve. It was preposterous to think that a dwarf would consider courting her and that she would actually accept. With a final look in the mirror, she ventured out.

As she entered the lavish sitting room, she saw before her a dwarf with his back to her, his one hand upon the sturdy mantle staring contently into the fire. He was dressed in royal finery, the customary Durin blue peeking out between the leather edges. She stood there for a moment unsure if she should alert him to her presence when he suddenly turned around and their gazes met and locked.

His eyes said it all.


	4. Admiration Love Song

**A/N: This next chapter is a bit of a slow burn but you'll see where I'm going with it. I've included a head cannon I've always had with regards to some of the members of Thorin's company. It makes sense to me why they would be a part of the inner circle. I hope this twist works.**

 **I would like to thank all my readers who have commented on my fic thus far. I love comments and I would love to know what everyone thinks, so please leave one.**

 **Queen MariaTheresia: Thank you for continuing to read my story. The next chapter will be super exciting. Unexpected guests will be arriving and the beginnings of a love triangle will start to form.**

 **MissCallaLilly: Thanks for your comment on Chapter One. I hope you're still reading this little tale.**

 **Things aren't always what they seem to be on the outside. It takes courage and an open heart to see the good on the inside.**

 **Chapter Four – Admiration Love Song**

"Princess Sigrid," he said, bowing slightly at the hip, his eyes never leaving her. "Fíli, at your service."

Sigrid acknowledge him with a short nod and moved further into the room.

"I hope you remember me," sending her a grin that summoned the dimples upon his cheeks.

"Of course I do. You were part of the company that came to Lake-town and up my toilet," she answered coolly. "You're King Thorin's nephew and the Crown Prince of Erebor; if I'm correct."

Fíli was taken aback by her rigid demeanor, the grin fading fast and replaced with a bewildered expression.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. "You do not seem to be in high spirits."

"Forgive me. It seems my mood has gotten the best of me."

"I hope nothing has displeased you during your stay. If so, tell me and I will rectify it immediately."

"No," she dismissed, waving an airy hand as she drew closer. "This is all my own doing I'm afraid." Fíli wasn't completely convinced but decided it was best not to press the matter.

As their voices fell away, they stood staring at one another unable to find the words as silence hung in the air like a moment suspended. Only the soft ticking sound of the dwarven made mantle clock broke the lull.

Sigrid became still; there was something about his eyes. She didn't remember him having such a cerulean gaze back in Lake-town. They pierced her, like a cold midwinter breeze, freezing her to the spot, making her believe he had his own sky inside of him. The thought rattled her and she wasn't sure why.

"I hope your family is well and that the restoration of Dale is close to completion," he finally said breaking her reverie.

"Oh…yes," Sigrid replied, turning her head before the sudden flush of color gave her away.

"Is that a yes that the family is well, or a yes that Dale is close to completion?" He teased.

A burst of laughter saw to Sigrid covering her easy smile with the back of her hand. "A yes for both questions I suppose."

Fíli felt a jolt of happiness at seeing her laugh and it warmed his heart. The briefness of their last encounter was wrought with fear from orcs and dragon fire leaving no time for anything else.

But Sigrid suddenly remembered her place and reined in her befuddled emotions, forcing her smile to leave.

"Um, well, I believe you're my escort for the evening. Shall we go?"

"Yes, of course," he answered, noting her capricious change in mood. "But first, may I say you look very beautiful this evening."

Only silence followed his words and after a moment of awkwardness the princess gave him a weak smile.

Fíli breathed deep before composing himself once again. "My lady, please," offering her his leather clad arm to take. Reluctantly, she took it.

Young Mertha bobbed a curtsy as the couple passed her by and into the halls of Erebor. She quickly sent Dindora an exasperated look, a clear indication of the uncertainty she has of this woman of men before closing the chamber door behind them.

They walked in silence for quite some time as they went from one hall to the next. Feeling like he needed to break the ice again, Fíli decided to take a small detour.

As the last hall came to an end, it emptied into a fathomless room where the ceiling vaulted high within the mountain giving way to the myriad of levels where homes and shops and stairways were lit up by torch and lamp that flickered in the dark like stars. Sigrid's mouth hung open in wonder as she gazed upward until Fíli brought her attention back down.

"I hope you don't mind Princess, but I thought you'd like to see Erebor's market. There's a shop down the way you might find to your liking."

Sigrid let him lead her through the alleyway of crowded stalls and stone front storehouses as dwarves bustled about, bumping shoulder to shoulder, haggling over the finest of wares. The air hung heavy with the scent of spice and herbs and freshly baked goods all mingled in with the metallic stench of slaughtered meats hanging from iron hooks. Sigrid had never seen such a sight. It's sheer size and organized chaos was no comparison to the small market in Dale. The cacophony from stall holders hollering in khuzdul, unbeknownst to them of Sigrid's presence, delightfully distracted her and that easy smile from before began to grow again once more.

"Oi - Fíli!" came a loud call from out of nowhere causing them to stop and look amongst the crowd. As a couple of dwarves rolling barrels of ale passed by, a dwarf Sigrid recognized sauntered up to them from across the passageway.

"Whatcha doin down here lad? Don't you have some sort of fancy feast or someth'in going on?"

"Bofur! It's good to see you keeping out of trouble," quip Fíli slapping him on the back of his shoulder. "Do you remember Sigrid from Lake-town? She's now Princess Sigrid of Dale."

Bofur gave her a low bow before taking her hand and giving her knuckles a quick peck. "I am at your service m'lady. I heard your father was coming but I didn't know his enchanting daughter was here too."

Sigrid blushed from his bold behavior. She remembered how much Tilda enjoyed the " _funny_ " dwarf and his childish jokes before the madness of orcs and elvish magic took over their long lost home on the lake.

"Good evening," she said pulling her hand away.

"So, what brings you two down to the depths of the old market? Bofur enquired. "Shops are starting to close up for the night."

Fíli looked to Sigrid with happy eyes, patting her forearm that rested gently around his own, "I'd like to show the princess Uncle Bifur's shop. I thought she might like to take some gifts back for her brother and sister."

"Ah yes, I remember sweet Tilda," Bofur said with delight. "She's probably sassy as ever and I reckon grow'n like a weed." The comment made Sigrid laugh out loud.

"You have no idea," she answered.

Fíli was pleased. His plan was working. The tenseness that was there was fading away again as she chatted happily with his father's cousin. Bofur had a knack for making people feel welcome and at ease and it was indeed very fortunate that they ran into him.

"Well lass, look at me talk'n your pretty little ear off. The two of you need to get away and I'm here bust'n your gut," he cracked with a wink. "If you don't mind, I'd like to tag along and say hello to the old mugrel."

They followed an old lane that wove behind the market passing by little shops carved deep into the mountain. It was quiet and much darker but the lit braziers threw a soft golden light upon their path. Soon, the trio stood before an ancient and ornate wooden door. High above it and etched into the stone were the words " _Bifur's Shop of Toys and_ _Confectionery_." As they entered, an elder dwarf with black hair, a silvery beard and long mustache braids looked up from behind a workbench in the back; a half burnt candle stick nearby and a small wooden toy in his hand.

"Oi - Bofur! Fíli! Come. Come in and close that blasted door. If I see anymore snot nosed dwarflings today I'm going to lose my patience." Suddenly Sigrid poked out from between her escorts and Bifur's eyes grew wide.

"I beg your pardon my lady, please forgive my foulness," he accentuated bowing low in greeting. "I did not see you there behind the height of my cousin's raggedy mess of a hat."

"What are you call'n raggedy? This _hat_ was given to me by the best hatter west of the Lune," Bofur added in defense.

"That hatter was half blind and he thought his cat was a woodland elf. I'd say he was quite mad."

He wasn't mad Bifur, just a bit of a sot and I'd thank you very much if you left my lucky hat alone." Great chuckles came from the three dwarves but Sigrid was at a loss to their peculiar sense of humor.

Once their laughter diminished, Fíli gallantly presented the young woman. "Uncle, this is Princess Sigrid of the Kingdom of Dale."

"Welcome Princess. I remember you and your family from Lake-town. I'm very sorry for what happened there. It was a dark and unfortunate time for all."

"It was indeed darker for us," she added, quickly regretting her words.

Bifur looked to her with compassion. "The people of Lake-town suffered greatly from our hands, this I know, but I believe now that out of the darkness came the promise of a better life. We should embrace our past and look to our future with renewed hope."

Bifur's wise words settled upon the group like a heavy cloud until Bofur gave him an exaggerated simper.

"Geez Bif, ever since you lost that axe in your head, you've gotten philosophical and if I might add, a bit strange ya know."

Fíli came around to his uncle's defense, throwing a comforting arm over his shoulder. "Oh come now Bofur, if your mind was rattled by an axe for that long, you'd be brimming with words of wisdom too."

Sigrid started to wander while the others continued on with their banter and good humor. The store was immaculate and filled with all kinds of delicious smelling treats and far off in the back room, she could see wooden toys and little dolls displayed in rows upon shelves and tabletops.

"So, this is your shop? She asked interrupting their gab. "The sweets smell divine."

A wide smile filled Bifur's face. "Why thank you my lady. Every day my cousin Bomber helps me make them. Our seed cakes are quite famous in these halls you know."

Sigrid smiled back in response as she gazed upon the shelves with hungry eyes. Her stomach began to rumble making her well aware of how hungry she'd become.

"Fíli asked me to wrap up as many sweets as you want Princess, for you and the family. I'll send the basket up to your chamber in the morning."

"Don't forget to throw in a few toys for little Tilda," Bofur chimed with a grin. "No doubt she'll love them."

Sigrid took in their happy faces and it really warmed her heart. All the feelings, all the anger and resentment she felt for so long suddenly seem to disappear. It was so strange really, the things that her people have said over the years, the tales of greed, of their indifference to other races was just not adding up. Perhaps, it's not all true. Perhaps, she should give them a chance.

"I'm sure my family will love all your gifts. Thank you. You're so very kind and generous."

"We should probably get on our way my lady. I'm sure my Amad will be wondering where we are by now unless she's already sent the guards for us," Fíli said playfully.

"Yes, of course," taking his arm again, this time without any hesitation. "I hope we can meet again soon."

"Take care Princess," Bifur called after her. "You're always welcome in my shop."

After waving goodbye, Fíli and Sigrid headed for the feasting hall and the silence that was once there came back. But this time, it felt different somehow. Like some magical energy that quivered between them. Neither one could keep from wondering what the other was thinking, but it was Sigrid this time that broke the quiet.

"Your Uncle Bifur and your cousin, they're really nice and quite funny. Thank you for taking me there."

Fíli smiled. "You're welcome my lady. I'm very fortunate to have such a family."

"Do you have more uncles and cousins? I'm afraid I don't have any extended family, it's just my Da and us."

"I have a lot of distance kin actually, but Bifur and Thorin are the closest to me besides my Amad and brother Kíli. As you know, Thorin and my mother, Lady Dis, are siblings but Bifur is my father's younger brother."

Sigrid's eyes grew wide when remembering how Lady Dis acted in her chambers towards her own father. "And…is your father here? In Erebor?" she asked uneasily.

"No," Fíli answered, his face growing solemn. "He died a long time ago in battle. I was only 10 years old when it happened. Even today I have a hard time remembering his face or his voice."

"I know what you mean. I lost my mother the day my younger sister was born. I was only six at the time. The only thing I can remember about her was her love for lavender. We had bundles of dried lavender everywhere and when I come across the smell of it, it brings me great comfort."

They continued on with their walk, lost in thoughts about love and lost when they finally turned a corner and was hit with the sound of music and lively conversations which rippled and hummed towards them.

As they approached the elaborate arched entrance way, flanked on both sides were guards in full regalia, standing firm and unwavering as the raven symbol etched upon their golden chest plates danced softly in the torch light.

Fíli stopped short before the giant doors, turning to Sigrid with a twinkled look in his eyes. "My lady, have you ever been to a dwarf feast before?"

Following his amused intention, Sigrid smirked back. "No, I haven't. Is there something I should know?"

"Dwarf feasts are all about eating and being merry and once the dancing starts," rolling his eyes to accentuate his words, "we carouse all night until the drink runs out."

Sigrid belly laughed but quickly covered her mouth with her hand out of habit.

"Don't hide that beautiful smile Princess," Fíli said softly. "You truly have a laugh that the whole world should hear."

Sigrid cheeks flushed pink as she stared at his happy face while her giggles subsided. She wasn't quite sure if it was his shinning eyes, that silly grin or his pleasant smell of spice, mixed with leather and smoke that made her feel so…different.

"Are you ready Princess?" He asked, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

"Truth be told, I'm a bit nervous."

"Don't be. I have you."

 **Mugrel – bear of all bears**

 **Amad - mother**

 **Da - father**


	5. A Feastly Crowd of Thespians

**A/N: Hi everyone, thank you for sticking around to read this fic. I developed writer's block on this story and had to take some time to get it all back on track. I made some subtle changes in the previous chapters to make the story line up better, and since this fic has been on hold for 4 months, it would probably be worth the effort to re-read from the beginning. I hope you enjoy. Please leave a comment.**

 **Chapter 5 – A Feastly Crowd of Thespians**

There's nothing more lavish than a dwarfish feast; especially if it's a feast for a king - or two. The great hall overflowed with King Thorin's court of lords and dams, dignitaries and advisors, and a few well-known tarts circling like vultures amongst the high born. The din of their babbling chatter suffused the room in waves, ebbing and flowing, resonating off the walls in thunderous ripples until Fíli and Sigrid entered the hall. They were officially announced by the herald and the throng grew quiet as the couple began to maneuver through the sea of bodies, ever conscious of the staggered eyes that lingered upon the beautiful girl who clung tight to the prince's sleeve.

But none of that mattered, for Sigrid was taken in by the riot of colors that flitted before her like a dream could only conjure.

The hall was filled with golden light. Tables as far as the eye could see were lined up row upon row and dressed in royal finery that shimmered brightly from hanging candelabras; and upon the center of each, stood an overflowing vase of summer field flowers and hundreds of pink petal wildroses.

Her eyes shifted over to the six enormous tapestries that hung down from the vaulted ceiling, each one depicting a part of the famous journey of Thorin Oakenshield. She recognized Fíli's image in the second depiction wielding double swords against what looked like a trio of trolls. Sigrid smiled happily to herself. She'll have to ask Fíli to recall that story another time.

"There you two are!" exclaimed Lady Dis rushing up behind them and knocking Sigrid from her reverie. "I was about to send out a searching party." The matriarch of Erebor was not pleased, pinching the couple by the elbows and guiding them through the crowd like disobedient children.

"We've been waiting for the two of you to arrive. Thorin is anxious to begin the feast."

Lady Dis guided them to a tiered dais at the back of the massive hall where a grand table stood with a black raven emblem stitched upon the blue cloth. At its center sat King Thorin, his arms hanging listlessly down the ornate arms of his majestic chair, a look of disinterest etched upon his face until he noticed his sister and nephew in the crowd before him with a wide-eyed young girl.

He scrutinized the girl in the cream and blue embroider before rising from his seat, his eyes never leaving her.

"Where have you been Fíli?" ordered the king in a low voice.

"Forgive me Uncle," he replied with a gracious bow. We took a detour to the market and made a quick stop to visit my father's relations."

"So - you'd rather spend time with the miners and merchants than make the effort to arrive on time for your king," he scoffed.

Lady Dis threw her brother a scathing look. "Thorin, this is not the time to be in one of your moods," she hissed.

Fíli sighed deeply. His uncle hasn't been the same since the retaking of the mountain. His lust for gold faded when the dragon Smaug was killed, but he never forgave his kin who questioned his motives or the hobbit who betrayed him. Unfortunately, the blunt of the punishment fell on Fíli's shoulders, their once close relationship strained.

"Uncle," he announced once again. "This is Princess Sigrid of the Kingdom of Dale." Sigrid gave the king a respectful curtsy. "I'm sure you remember her from Lake-town before the dragon was _motivated_ to destroy her home and terrorize her people."

Sigrid snapped her coiffed head towards Fíli, her eyes wide from his brazen words. Something inside her couldn't believe what he just said, but he did and in that instance, changed her view of the dwarf forever.

"So - this is the bowman's daughter?" he snide, "it's hard to tell when she's dressed like a pretender."

Fíli's ire bubbled up from his core, swelling the veins in his neck. "Thorin, tread careful here," he warned.

"I'm sure my _nephew_ will take good care of you while you're here Princess," the king added taking his seat and ignoring the angry looks before him.

Sigrid's pulse began to race. A strong feeling of vulnerability began to overwhelm her and she wished her father were there to put this horrible beast in his place, but she quickly thought to what he would do before mustering enough courage to step forward.

"King Thorin, I must say…," she began but the king interrupted her.

"Young lady, it's obvious you weren't raised to your station. Your rightful place is to sit, look pretty and speak only when spoken too."

Sigrid's cheeks grew red with embarrassment and a secret fire of hurt-filled anger brewed deep within her belly. _How dare he talk to me like that_ , she thought; her small hand gripping Fíli's arm.

The prince leaned in close. "It does no good to refute him. Thorin is set in the old ways and we must pick our battles wisely. Come, I will take you to your seat now," giving her a reassuring smile and guiding her away.

Much to Sigrid's surprise, she was not sitting at the royal table but at a smaller table on the lower tier. Though beautifully decorated like the others, it was apparent that this spot was reserved for those deemed lesser than the dwarf king.

Fíli released her hand from his arm and gave the top of it a tender kiss. "My lady, thank you for allowing me to escort you this evening," he said softly as his blue eyes pierced her heart causing it to flip in her chest and making her woozy; a feeling she's never truly felt before.

He pulled out her chair and guided her to sit, like someone with impeccable manners would do, before bending over from behind and adding another whisper into her ear. "Everyone's attention will be on you this evening. If you need rescuing at any point, draw your sight to mine, and I shall be there."

Sigrid blushed as she watched Fíli take his leave; climbing the steps to his seat beside the king with his brother Kíli and Dwalin on his left. The Lady Dis was to the right of Thorin but her back was turned from him as she whispered a heated exchange with Balin, obviously, a reaction to the king's current state of mind.

Suddenly, the grand sound of trumpets and horns filled the hall and the large arched doorways reopened. The Royal Herald of Erebor bellowed out the announcement that the King of Dale had arrived. In delayed anticipation, in strut the king with his six city guards flanked equally on either side donned in their green ceremonial cloaks, the emblem of Dale stitched in silver thread.

The crowd split apart as the King of the Northmen swaggered with purpose and conviction, his own royal cloak swaying with each step. His black leather tunic stretched tight across his muscular chest only to be cinched with a simple girdle that matched the simple crown of iron upon his head.

Thorin watched him with untrusting eyes, his lips curling into a scowl. He never liked the bowman and his rags to riches smugness. Confident, self-assured and poised he was, threatening the dwarf king to feel less than noble on all accounts.

Bard stopped below the dais; his own expressionless eyes upon the Mountain King as he bowed low, his arms swept wide.

"Good evening Thorin. I see my daughter has been delivered to me safe and sound," he said glancing over to Sigrid seated at the nearby table.

She gave her father a warm smile that lit the room like stars after dark, a sight that didn't go unnoticed.

"That was quite an entrance _King_ Bard. You must have been an entertainer at one point, for you almost fooled me with your kingly pomp."

"Such a charmer Thorin," he smirked, "but do not fear, your royal pomp is fel rhech mewn pot jam," inducing a round of laughter from the city guards and a small polite giggle from Sigrid.

Thorin turned to the commander of his army, "If I didn't know better, I think he just insulted me Dwalin."

"Aye, and in Dalish too," he growled as he started to rise.

"How dare he belittle you in our house" chide Kíli, his dark eyes blazing. But Thorin waved them down and let the remark go.

Bard stepped up to the lower tier, the silver fasteners on his knee-high leather boots jingled with each step as he approached his daughter, placing a gentle hand upon her shoulder.

"How are you my darling?"

"I'm well Father," giving his hand a reassuring pat, but she glanced up at him with a curious look. "I thought you were escorting the Lady Dis tonight?"

Bard glanced over to the dwarrowdam perched high above them, watching over with a warm smile across her face before giving him a nod, a small sign of acknowledgement.

"Aye, I did earlier before all this got underway," gesturing to the mass of people. "She asked that I go back out and come in the way I did. I think that one has some spite in her."

"I like Lady Dis. I don't believe she does anything without a purpose," shooting her eyes over to Thorin. Bard picked up on the subtle gesture and laughed.

"That's probably very true, my dear." He kissed the top of Sigrid's head and sat in a chair beside her clearly adorned for someone of position. At least they didn't deny him that respect.

 **-D-**

King Thorin began the feast by welcoming his guests from Dale and all those in attendance. Once everyone had found their tables and settled in, the king made the official announcement of the intended collaboration between the two kingdoms, much to everyone's surprise and to some outcries of disapproval. He hushed them, demanding their attention as he continued on with his speech.

"The threat of orcs in the lands around us has increased, risking our trade routes, risking the lives of all us, but there's something else. A larger threat looms; word has been sent and a declaration of war is now upon the Dwarves of Erebor."

The sound of gasps filled the air; women clutched at their husband's arms, men mumbled to others in a show of defiance. Even Sigrid was surprised, taking her father's hand for comfort.

"As Dwarves of Durin, we can easily fortify our position and fight or we can hide within our walls and forsake those around us". King Thorin stared down at Bard as if to reassure his position. "I've decided that the Kingdom of Erebor and the Kingdom of Dale should help each other, protect our people and destroy this threat once and for all. Tomorrow, we will council and form a plan, but for tonight, enjoy the feast. Drink, dance, be merry!" With a clap of his hands, servants bustled out of secret doorways carrying trays of food and pitchers of drink. The feast had begun, and no plate or cup was left empty.

As the evening wore on and the feasting slowed down, the music piped up and everyone began to mingle and dance. Dale's city guards were assigned to a sentry table nearby, keeping a close watch on their ward and care of the crown, but for one, who was watching the princess more intently than the others. The captain of the guard remained focused on Sigrid even when the others tried to involve him in their cheer-filled jests. He had noticed something earlier, something different, something changed since their arrival in Erebor. He wasn't sure if he liked it and the more he watched, the more it became quite clear.

Sigrid sat contently, her thoughts lingering on the spot where Fíli left his kiss; thoughts that played out what it would feel like to have him kiss her lips and not her hand. She smiled to herself and took a sip from her third cup of Woodland wine as her father chatted away to Gloin, one of the nobles of Durin seated at their table. But, every so often, she would steal a carefully timed glance of the crown prince as he talked to his brother and Dwalin. Only once was she caught by Fíli's gentle smile, causing her to shield her face from view, her cheeks redder than the raspberry topping of her half-eaten honey cake.

"King Bard," bowed Fredrik, his wavy brown hair tied loosely at his nape. "Forgive my interruption." Fredrik's sudden appearance snapped Sigrid from her daydream.

"What is it Captain?" asked Bard in surprise. Everyone's attention was now on the handsome man, his dark brown eyes never wavering.

"My liege, I come to ask the princess if she'd care to dance," offering his hand to her. "Such a beauty shouldn't be left alone to her thoughts."

Bard smiled. He always respected and admired Fredrik for his loyalty and honest thoughtfulness, especially towards his daughter. It would please him beyond measure if one day he would ask permission for Sigrid's hand.

"Of course Fredrik, I agree. My beautiful daughter shouldn't hear the ramblings of old men – and dwarves," pointing his thumb in Gloin's direction.

"Old!" barked the red bearded aristocrat, "Don't give me insult while I sit before you, man of the lake."

"Easy does it Gloin, I was only joking," added the king. "Sigrid, enjoy the night and dance. Fredrik will take good care of you, I'm sure."

Sigrid was taken by surprise, unsure of what to do, her newly formed feelings conflicting with the memory of her old ones. She always liked Fredrik and knew he had feelings for her; feelings she felt in return - once - but now she wasn't so sure.

"Princess?" The brief lull cast a concerned look from the captain; his hand still empty.

"Yes, of course I'll dance with you," taking his hand and standing up, her chair politely moved by a servant from behind.

They got to the dance floor just as a new song began from musicians who were trying their best to play some Dalish music. The melody was light and sweet as they began to twirl in a waltz, the only couple on the floor. Everyone in the hall was watching them, some more closely than others.

"I've missed you Sigrid," he said softly between timed and measured steps. "We've had no time alone."

"Shh Fredrik," she cautioned. "Someone might overhear you."

"I don't care my love," before spinning her around in the dance, her back against him now, her exposed neck and ear at his lips. "I need to kiss you," he breathed.

He spun her back to face him, his body closer than before, the stubble upon his chin brushing lightly against her cheek. Sigrid was flustered, her mind reeling. For several months, they shared stolen moments of intimacy; a kiss behind closed doors, hands held under the starlight. Before they left Dale for the Lonely Mountain, the thought of marriage was considered. Fredrik loved her, and she thought she loved him, but the sudden feelings for the dwarf prince have taken her by surprise.

"Fredrik, we must not speak of this here," she pressed.

The dance came to an end and they bowed to each other in tradition. Sigrid took Fredrik's hand once more, expecting to be escorted back to her father, but he grabbed her tiny waist quickly guiding her through the other guests and towards an open archway which lead to a private terrace within the mountain.

"Fredrik," she hissed when he released her "what are you doing?" A view of the inner royal palace glimmered softly in the view behind her.

"Kiss me my love, I need to taste your lips on mine," he begged, leaning into her.

Sigrid held her hands out, pressing them against his broad chest, her face slightly turned from his advances.

"Fredrik please, not here."

"Why? What has changed Sigrid," withdrawing from her with a darken look. "Once, you would have sought to be with me but now I'm not so sure."

"That's not true. We're in another realm, an unfamiliar one and…and I thought it would be inappropriate to display such feelings."

"I don't think you're telling me the truth." The captain began to circle Sigrid, his brown eyes interrogating her. "I've been watching you all evening and not once have your eyes fell on mine."

Sigrid felt hot. She knew her face gave her actions away. "Fredrik, I'm not going to discuss this with you tonight."

She gathered her skirt in her hands and was about to leave when his firm hand gripped her arm spinning her around and up against him. Fredrik's mouth was at her temple, his hot breath in her hair. She could feel all of him against her, causing her pulse to quicken in alarm.

"You've been watching him…the light haired prince."

"Let me go Fredrik, you're hurting me."

"You were alone with him, unchaperoned, for quite some time before the feast. No one knew where you were, where you went." The captain's embrace tightening more as each moment passed.

"Fredrik, please..." she begged.

Tell me pretty Sigrid," his strong hands gliding up her arms, to her neck, until he finally cradled her worried face. "Does this _dwarf_ make you feel like this?"

He pressed his mouth hard upon her, prying her tender lips apart, his tongue sliding deep inside her mouth. She murmured against the intrusion, confused and hurt by the assault, his grip holding her in place as she tried to pull away.

Suddenly, from out of the shadows came a mighty blow and Fredrik found himself on the stone floor, a throbbing pain to his left side.

"Take your hands off her!" cried Fíli, pulling his ceremonial sword from his belt.

Sigrid gasped in shock, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a cry as the scene unfolded before her. She rushed between the two men; Fíli's sword pointed directly at her chest.

"Fíli, stop," she pleaded. "You don't understand." The young prince pulled his sword away and stared at her, muddled.

"What is happening here Sigrid? I became worried when I saw this man pull you away and out of sight. Who is he to you?"

"I would be her betrothed. We are to be married," taunt Fredrik as he got up with a grunt, brushing the imaginary dirt from his trousers. "If – that's any of your concern."

"Married?

"Fíli, that's not entirely true," said Sigrid, trying to take his hand only to have him pull away.

"Yes, it's very true _Fíli_ ," sneered the captain. "Her hand is mine; you can ask King Bard yourself."

Fíli was shocked by this revelation, his once happy eyes now dimmed with disappointment. He couldn't believe what a fool he's been.

"There's been a misunderstanding and I've seen and heard all I need to Princess Sigrid, please accept my apology for the intrusion and for the attack on your person Captain," giving them both a quick formal nod, "If you'll excuse me." Fíli stormed off and was lost within the crowd before Sigrid could say another word.

"So, you do have feelings for this dwarf," said Fredrik coming up behind her.

Sigrid turned around, her eyes filled with fury. "Why would you say such a thing? It's not true. We're not betrothed."

"Not officially," he countered, "but I was planning to ask your father when we got back to Dale. Don't you wish to marry me?" When no answer came, the man's demeanor softened.

"Sigrid, my love," reaching for her hands and bringing them to his chest. "I'm sorry for my actions, I was jealous but now I know the cause of my concerns. He's a dwarf, my lady. The very same people who killed and betrayed our friends, our families – _my family_. I'm not sure what this prince has filled your head with, but it's absurd to think you might have desired him."

"Desired him…," she said slowly, remembering a thought that recently crossed in her mind. "Of course I don't, that is absurd."

But Fredrik's words began to ring true. He was right. What had gotten into her? Only hours before she decried her rancor about dwarf men to her handmaidens.

"I have no desire to be with a dwarf, Fredrik. I've behaved poorly this evening. Do you forgive me?"

"Of course, my darling," he answered placing tiny kisses upon her fingertips. "It's this place you know. I've heard it's cursed and that foul magic lives here. The sooner we leave the sooner we can wed."

"Yes, we should leave as soon as we can. I wish to marry in the autumn, amongst the golden light of the leaves."

Fredrik smile broadly before leaning in and kissing the girl with tender care this time. A kiss reciprocated with renewed hope.

 **-D-**

The sunlight of morn shone down upon the flagstone floor casting its golden glow onto the four-poster bed. Sigrid stirred, stretching her arms high above her head as she yawned deeply, the memories of Fredrik still fresh in her head. The night went well into the wee hours with much dancing and a little too much drink; the perfect excuse for her foolish behaviour. Even her father seemed pleased with their blatant display of affection.

But not all approved. Lady Dis watched her eldest son leave, his expression clearly distressed, his walk sedated. Unsure of what occurred, it became quite clear when the princess emerged again, arm in arm with the city guard, the look of love fresh in her eyes. Having seen enough, Lady Dis left the feast in a fury; her entourage of servants following close behind leaving King Bard slightly confused by the sight. But it was Thorin who was left amused, giving Bard a cynical smile and a tip of his ale cup, seemingly aware of what befell his nephew.

 **-D-**

"So, the threat _is_ true," said Kíli, his brown eyes wide.

The young dark haired prince handed the human skin scroll back to his uncle, wiping his hands in disgust upon his trousers.

"They made sure we noticed", said the king from his council chair, throwing the black speech message into a standing brazier nearby; its putrid smoke filling the chamber.

"I say we kill this filth and his army like we did before and be done with it," barked Dwalin, his tattooed arms crossed over his barrel chest, the metal spurs of his fingerless gloves catching the light.

"It's not as simple as that brother," answered Balin, "Men from the north have said this beast is the last of Azog's spawn. He's stronger and viler than the rest and has the power of Gundabad at his whim. The orc army is regrouping, and we must not be hasty to downplay this threat."

"And this is why I've called upon Dale," said Thorin as he looked to Bard with his captain at his side. "We can't do this alone. Erebor's army is small; not all our people have come back to the mountain."

"If this threat is imminent, we of Dale will do all we can," replied Bard, "but Thorin, we're in the same situation as you. Our numbers haven't recouped since the battle three years ago, can you not call upon your kinsmen for help?"

Thorin gave Bard a sarcastic grin before answering. "I could – but you took the Arkenstone and sold it to the highest bidder. My kinsmen won't heed my calls."

"Just because of some rock?" The statement seemed ludicrous to him.

Thorin's expression turned pique. "The Arkenstone was a symbol of power, giving the one who beared it the right to rule the seven dwarf kingdoms. That _shire rat_ stole it from me."

"You went back on your word Thorin," Bard challenged, "Bilbo saved Dale with his generous gift. Don't place blame when the blame belongs to you."

Thorin huffed, but his face showed a clear sign of discomfort. The King of Dale was right. He had always known he was right and he knew he shouldn't blame Bilbo; but when so much betrayal came from his own kin and from the one he thought was his friend, he couldn't accept it and it soured his heart. Blasted, even that scheming wizard left him when he needed him most.

"I don't want to hear your reasoning, _Bard the Bowman_. You took advantage and you've reaped what you did off my people's backs. I'm a King only by name. The seven kingdoms are in flux and the dwarf nobles are wondering who should truly be in power. We stand alone in this fight."

"If we are indeed alone in this as you say Thorin, then we need a plan of attack. What is your proposal?"

"Dwalin is the commander of my army and Kíli is his second, they will go over the plans in detail."

Dwalin and Kíli cleared the long table and laid out some maps of the barren lands around Erebor and that of the mountain. As they began to strategize over positions, a single dwarf guard pounded heavily upon the chamber door before entering.

"Forgive me my king, but a visitor insists on speaking with you now."

"Tell this guest I'm engaged and cannot be disturbed," barked Thorin.

"He's not a guest of Erebor my liege, he arrived this morning."

Thorin threw the guard an annoyed look. "Who is this person that dares to come into my kingdom demanding my time?"

"That would be King Thranduil of the Woodland realm sire."

Thorin sighed deeply. Bloody elves. It was going to be a very long day.

 **Fel rhech mewn pot jam - like a fart in a jam jar – Welsh expression.**


End file.
